Garside's Career: A Comedy in Four Acts

by Harold Brighouse

Peter. You trust me, don't you?

Mar. (giving hand). Yes, Peter, I trust you.

Peter (bursting with thoughts). There's my journalism. This degree 'ull give me a lift at that. I shall get lecture engagements too.

Mar. (alarmed). Peter, you didn't do it for that!

Peter. I did it for you. But I mean to enjoy the fruits of all this work. Public speaking's always been a joy to me. You don't know the glorious sensation of holding a crowd in the hollow of your hand, mastering it, doing what you like with it.

Mar. (sadly). I hoped you'd given up speaking.

Peter. I haven't spoken lately because I'd other things to do. I haven't given it up.

Mar. You did too much before.

Peter. You don't know the fascination of the thing.

Mar. (bracing herself for a tussle). I know the fascination's fatal. I saw it growing on you—this desire to speak, to be the master of a mob. I hoped I'd cured you of it.